The Ballad of Michael Valentine
by TehcheesegraterofDOOM
Summary: Part of ScarlettBlush's Librarian!Charles AU. The one where Hank punches Erik in the face and wants desperately for Alex to make-out with him on the fourth floor at the library where Charles works because Shaw never goes up there. Rated T for lang.
1. Michael Plays with Stars

**Alriiiiiightaaaayyyy, let's get this hooker on the road. :) **

**This story is based in ScarlettBlush's 'in the moonlight, on a joyride' Modern!AU Library-verse. You know...if that makes sense...If you want this story to make sense later, read that first and it'll give you a background on the setting and an idea of what a real story is like, for this is my first crack at it, so, yeah...don't kill me...**

**If you just wanna get to the story, by all means, please, skip my useless babbling, I don't mind. :)  
**

**I hope it'll be interesting enough for y'all to review, but I'm not exactly gonna stop just 'cuz no one does. I'm a man (girl) of my word! And once I start something, I don't stop until I finish it. And y'all best believe ima finish this hooker. (apologizing for potty mouth) **

** It's dedicated to the two special ladies in my life! -Suggestive eyebrow waggle- **

**Only the two best writers i've ever had the fortune to know. **

** ScarlettBlush-I AM STILL NOT WORTHY. But I've uploaded the first chapter in your name, for you are my broski, and I miss you because you've vanished into the evile that is 'The Real World'. XD  
**

**-And-**

**sianikins-I AM NOT WORTHY HERE EITHER. But I thank you for giving me the confidence to go through with this, and giving it another quick read through before I went and did the unthinkable. **

**This is for you, ladies. :D (And maybe, on a much lesser note, all you crazy Halex fangirls/boys [I DOUBT IT, I JUST LIKE BEING THOROUGH] that deemed this story worthy of reading...maybe...)**

**Oh, and the song that inspired this process is 'The Ballad of Michael Valentine' by The Killers. Go listen to it, for it is awesome. **

**6/2/12  
**

**Hey! Since i'm a perfectionist and love you all, I got betas upon betas to help me with this story! So here's the infinitely better version! Hell, I even needed to edit my damn A/N, that's how bad this was, and if you _still_ commented/liked this story, I love you lots and dedicate this to you as well, because you're all sweeties and I shower you with internet rainbows. **

**DAMN IT JIM, IM A DOCTOR, NOT A FAN-FICTION WRITER! :)  
**

* * *

To say Hank was smitten was a gross understatement.

According to Angel, he was drop-dead-at-one-look-take-me-now-you-blond-sex-god in lust.  
Sometimes Hank wondered why he was taking advice from the person who used the terms, "it was like watching octopuses mate..." Angel smacks him out of his reverie and tells him to pay attention to the insurmountable task at hand.

"This aint no picnic Hank!"

Oh.

Like Hank had delusions that they were actually engaging in picnic-like endeavors at the freaking mall. And she had the gall to insult him when she had brought the enemy into their nest. He was more than a bit insulted, actually, and then he remembered that his newfound friendship with Angel was a series of scathing reality checks that went hand in hand with her protecting him like a mother hen at the helm of battle, ever ready to literally claw the eyes out of any and all foes who dared mess with her brood.

She knew Hank despised all things violent, but she also knew that should he ever need to, he'd _beat all up on 'em_ on her behalf. Sometimes, he was impulsive, if the bruise on Erik's chin was any indication.

"But, Charles, I'll never see you again if you go on that lunch date! Remember 'La Llorona'? He's La freaking Llorona! I won't let you do it!" Hank protests.

"But Hank, we talked about this. He's kind of my boyfriend now," Charles comments to Hank while re-arranging books via Shaw's ridiculous codes.

"He's like, thirty! Thiry, Charles!" Hank hisses.

"Nice try, but he's only around 20. I forgot the exact number," Charles counters.

"Charles, please? What if he's like, one of those 'get to know you' serial killers? What if-What if-", Hank begins, only to be abruptly thrust back into reality by Charles' left hand colliding with his face.

"Breathe Hank. Come on, there's a good man." Charles smiles, despite just having slapped Hank back into reality, and goes back to his library shuffle work, not noticing Hank running towards where he knows Erik was eavesdropping,

"GAHH!" Hank yells out, finding his intended target.

"Hank, where are you-Hank!" Charles yells, voice filled with panic instantly knowing something is off when Hank is nowhere to be seen.

"What the bloody hell, you dummkopf!" Erik bellows a few rows away.

"I'LL KILL YOU FIRST!" Hank bellows, latching onto Erik.

"HANK, GET OFF HI-"Charles yells out once again, finding both Hank and Erik trying to kill one another.

"Hank, control yourself, man! I'm not going to kill Char-" Erik tries reasoning with Hank, to no avail.

"FOR NARNIAAAA!" Hank yells out, grabbing the nearest object and getting ready to impale Erik on said object, knowing what he's saying is ridiculous, but hey, he loved movies, and had always wanted to say that at some point in time.

"HANK! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT USING THE CHAIR! PUT IT DOWN NOW!" Charles orders.

And then Hank gets tackled by Scott, is banned from the library for 2 weeks, and is forc-asked by Herr Shaw to read up on Anarchism and its negative effects on society and how Shaw will not tolerate that kind of hippy skippy behavior in his institution.

Charles gives him the silent treatment for three weeks.

Erik thinks it's hilarious.

Asshole.

He meets Angel in the third week of Charles' vow not to speak to him until he apologizes to Erik.

Like Hell.

So here he is in the magazine section, trying to read up on his favorite 'Popular Mechanics' issue, while formulating a plan to simultaneously get Charles to talk to him again, kill Erik without leaving any evidence and Alex, the library delivery guy, to notice him and make out with Hank on the fourth floor of the library.

When out of the blue, Angel comes and sits next to him.

Hank scoots away.

And she scoots closer.

And he scoots away.

And she scoots closer.

And he scoots awa—'_Damn you couch! Damn you!' _

Hank is now cornered by the Latin bombshell, not noticing Alex is only a few feet away, heading towards the elevator where he and Angel are near.  
"You're little Xavier's friend aren't you, tall guy?"

Betrayal still quite the fresh wound, he simply says, "Nope."

"Aww, you mad Erik stole your man, tall guy?" she goads.  
Hank glared at Angel, hoping that he could make her leave by sight alone.

"First of all, my name is Hank, not tall guy!" he hisses. "And second of all-"

A practiced veteran in the ways of the diva, Angel stops Hank before he gets into full-blown diva-mode and begins knocking him down a peg or two. "Boy, you are heading for some serious pain if you don't quit that tone with me." She replies, and as an afterthought adds, "Rude."

Pausing as he hears the tale-tell signs of one of Angel's (frequent) diva-offs, Alex looks over from his place near the elevator and the day's deliveries and sees _Hank. _Hank; Erik's librarian boyfriend Charles' ex-hooker. (Or so the coffee room gossip mongers say.)Of all the people he thought he'd _never _see in a diva off with Angel, this could take the whole freaking bakery. He tries and fails not to laugh as he watches them continue their conversation, both Angel and Hank none the wiser that Alex is their untimely audience.

"Don't get snippy with me, boy. I didn't steal your man from you," Angel hotly retorts, eyebrow drawn in question, lines getting quickly drawn in the metaphorical sand.

"Charles is not 'my man', okay?" Hank snaps out, pissed. ''Why does everyone think that I'm his jealous ex-hooker?'' and begins his vaguely familiar pattern of retreating from a situation that he knows for a fact he cannot win. Running smack into Alex in the process.

"Alright Hank, we get it. Charles isn't your man, and you're not his ex-hooker. Don't go all Beast and start throwing the furniture around again, 'cause Shaw would blow a gasket," Alex comments dryly, failing to avoid Hank's mid-escape attempt (maybe enjoying the unintentional touch a bit too much).

Angel pretends not to see Hank running for his life in the opposite direction, utter mortification etched on his face, and it clicks. Honestly, she's a bit insulted that she didn't see it sooner. So she starts plotting not five-minutes later, examining every little detail of what she knew of Hank, and what she drags out of Alex later, when she cracks open a bottle and they engage in a bit of a truth or dare of sorts (that she _may or may not _have tipped in her favor by tipping a couple beers down Alex's throat). Damn, Angel was good. _'Rominov, eat your heart out.'_

Why? Because deep down, deep deep down, past her HBIC exterior, like, Disney's Atlantis, people have tried and died to reach down, Angel likes Hank. She imagines he would've been fun to play tea party dress up with when she was like, four, because being an only child was lonely and imaginary friends could only do so much before she'd accepted her fate. She could probably dress him up in whatever she wanted and he wouldn't say no, she just knew it.

And seriously, who reads _The Fundamental Theorem of Calculus_ for fun?

Anything she did now would only benefit Hank, she was sure of it. Should she need to bust some heads and crack some skulls, well, then so be it. As she walks outside, heels clicking away while watching Hank hyperventilate, she accepts that he could, in fact, be her greatest challenge yet.

"So tall guy." She says smoothly "You want the delivery boy?"

"Wh—what?" Hank stammers out, knowing he's been caught, the quintessential deer in the headlights. "How did—I don't—what?" _'Brain to mouth filter, you fail!' _Once again cornered by the Spanish diva, Hank resists the urge to reflect on the choices that brought him here. All he wanted was to read his 'Popular Mechanics' and sneak a peek of the glorious, glorious backside of one Alex Summers for the day. That's it. And then, maybe later, eat a damn Twinkie, because nutritional value aside, Twinkies were Hank's comfort food and boy, was he ever looking forward to ruining his appetite for dinner later. Especially now, after almost running his crush over. He didn't need this aggravation!

"I think I can help you in that department, Hank." She says, sitting down next to him, and, rubbing circles into his back, ends with a truth Hank would soon know. "But you're not gonna like it."

* * *

**Sooooooooo? How was it? Did you not throw your monitor/mobile phone in anger at being subjected to my craptastic prose? Cuz that'd be awesome! :)**

**Till next time, ladies and gentlemen!**

**-TehCheese**

**6/2/12  
**

**Awww yeah bbys. Its way better thanks to all my lovely betas. I spoil all you Halex lovers at random intervals because there's -gasp- ANOTHER CHAPTER UP? Yeah. Believe it, my broskis. Read on to see what my Head!Cannon Alex thinks about this odd arrangement**

**Oh, and I don't own these peoples or anything you guys find familiar. I just like to think that I'm allowed to play with the concepts shown. :3  
**

**I write this because I can! Not for profit, because that shit grey, ladies and gentlemen. That shit grey.  
**

**Stay Jazzy bbys!  
**


	2. Soul Sister, Won't You Take A Ride

**So, I'm kinda getting the hang of this story thing...I like it. :D **

**I'm proud of it. Alex's POV was pretty short though, so dont kill me, I'm already in the process of typing out the third chappie, so worry not, fellow Halex fans! I love you and this ship too much not to finish it! Beta'd by the ever lovely thexdarkestxnights and my internet lover ScarlettBlush. XD**

**None of what you find familiar belongs to me. :) I own nothing and write this for the sake of being awesome and writing some crappy Halex.**

**Read on, readers! *~*  
**

* * *

To say Alex was an easy lay wasn't—entirely accurate? Obviously, he had standards, but sometimes, he liked to get wined and di—get drunk and party 'till he woke up the next morning in a strange house with a missing left sock and various love bites on his body. So Alex liked a little company now and then. It certainly didn't have anything to do with his, albeit secret, adoration of regency romance novels and falling in love with the first person who batted eyes at him. He reflects to himself that it wasn't ever really love, just, situational.

It's the eyes.

He'd always been a sucker for the eyes.

Which is why when Erik decides to stop being a cold, heartless bastard and gets a relatively cute boyfriend, with an incredibly adorkable friend with amazing blue eyes, Alex decides to work part time at the library. Not because he can easily bribe Sean to let him into the library records and find that Hank's, real name was Henry Phillip McCoy. Which he thinks has a nice ring to it; but because he wants to make some extra money so Scott would stop grouching at him like a 63-year old about how he's a lazy teenage hippy freeloader. In no way, shape or form will Alex ever be caught dead wearing tie-dye, so that hippy comment hits straight home.

When he learns that Hank and Charles have only ever been best friends and Hank is not, in fact, Charles' jealous ex-hooker, he is silently thanking whatever library deity decided that Hank was to be single until Alex realized he existed. He vaguely remembers a night in which he and Angel just hung out and they barely touched upon the subject of relationships, but that's about all he remembers from that night. Come to think of it, those simple beers did taste a bit odd to him at the time, but the longer he and Angel talked, the more comfortable he was.

He shouldn't be so overjoyed to pick on Hank after what he dubs as 'The jealous Ex-Hooker' incident, but in Alex's defense, Hank makes it too easy! And those lips! Whenever Alex can coax a pout out of those lips, he personally takes out the trash without Scott going on and on about how he never does his fair share of the housework.

A quiet and far off voice in the back of Alex's head that he rarely listens to can't help but wonder every now and then if Hank was even old enough for Alex to be obse—interested in him. Alex is _only_ a freshman in college, so how old can Hank really be if he's friends with Charles?

"So, that's the fabled 'Beast', is it?" Alex's childhood friend Armando says as he parks his car near the library shipping entrance, helping Alex carry out the various boxes filled with Herr Shaw's 'precious cargo' as he called it. He looks over again to where Hank and Angel are, not paying much heed to Alex's 'girl problems'. Instead, paying much more attention to the gratuitous leg action Angel may or may not be flaunting while wearing that mini skirt. "Doesn't look like much. I expected the guy to be Logan sized. You know, The Hulk, not Kid Flash. Angel looks like she's the man in that screwed up relationship."

"Hey! He's tall! And so help me,' Alex says with a scowl, 'if Angel is moving in on my territo—"

"You know that's not what I meant Alex," Armando deadpans. Not to be outdone by his taxi driver friend, Alex ends with, "Gah! Whatever. You fail for putting a DC and a Marvel reference in the same sentence Darwin!" For Alex is a die-hard (albeit closet) Marvel fan, and putting DC and Marvel together, even in the same sentence, is blasphemous to him. Like calling The Beatles a country show or saying that the Star Wars prequels made in the 2000's were better than the 80's version. Some people just don't know how stupid they really are, and Alex expects better of the aforementioned Darwin.

"And since when is Hank your territory?" Darwin asks, amused at his friend's blatant lack of social skills.

"Since Erik and Charles went all couple-y, duh," Alex says matter-of-factly. Darwin resists the urge to facepalm as he decides to wedge some knowledge into his blonde friend's thick skull.

"So you're just doing this because Erik is doing it?" Darwin continues.

"No. I actually like the guy. He's awkward, but in a good, nerdy jailbait kind of way. And I mean, _come on. _You and I both saw that gnarly bruise on Lehnsherr's chin. That was him! That was all him! He threw a freaking chair. Sean said he never saw a nerd go all apeshit like that in his life! Can you say 'the greatest semi-naked wrestling ever that eventually leads to kinky sex'? Can you? " Alex grins wolfishly, imagining scenarios where bed posts, Hank's lame (ridiculously endearing; what? Alex reads. He can use big words) ties and those nerdy glasses Hank wears are involved.

"You know you can't actually have sex with him until he's 18, right?" Darwin slips in, berating Alex yet again with his pesky knowledge and all-encompassing smartitude. (No one said Alex read _often…_) "Unless, you know, you want to be someone else's jailbait-esque prison bitch," He finishes, stifling his laughter.

"Why do you ruin everything, Darwin? Do you see me telling you to stop staring at Angel's ass? Do you?" Alex retorts, ego deflated, fantasies going up in smoke. "And I was having such a nice mental porn fest. I hate you, so you can take the stairs and I'll take the service elevator and laugh at your misery," he says, walking off, boxes in tow.

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**Bless your faces for reading! I love you all and shower you with nyan cat pop-tarts! :3 **

**-TehCheese  
**


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